Relatively Awful - The Coconut Chronicles: Two Guys, One Caribbean Dream House - page 220

“Kevin, I'm afraid you'll need to rent a car in Vieques.”
“How's that?”
“Our house is in the hills. You'll need a car to get to the beach.”
“We will?”
I wondered how carefully he'd read our web page. Even more, I wondered if he regret-
ted having already committed himself to renting our property.
“Yep, I'm afraid you will. Look, why don't you sleep on it? If you find something that
suits your lifestyle better, no hard feelings.”
“What do you mean, our lifestyle?”
Now I had offended my mother's long-lost tenth cousin or whatever he was.
“I just meant maybe someplace within walking distance of the beach.”
“We don't like being near the beach.”
“Ah.”
“Not. At. All. Too many bugs.”
“It's kind of a buggy island, Kevin,” I said in a weak voice. “We have bugs up in the
hills too.”
“What kind?”
I thought quickly.
“Well, all kinds of mosquitoes, including the kind that carry dengue fever. And we saw
a tarantula in the driveway recently.”
“No problem,” he said. “We'll take it.”
What could I do? This simple transaction had obviously devolved into a Matter of Fam-
ily Honor.
“Fantastic!”
☼ ☼ ☼
I called my dear ma for guidance, which turned out to be a bad idea on several levels.
She vaguely remembered Kevin but categorically denied that they were related in any
way. I sketched out the whole bizarre scenario as best I could.
“You know, that rings the faintest of bells,” she said. “My mother was always vague
about that side of the family.”
“So you know Kevin?”
“Barely. I haven't seen him or his wife in fifteen years.”
“Are they nice?”
She hesitated.
“I'm sure they're very nice.”
This was a typical non-answer from a woman who had spent her whole life studiously
avoiding saying anything unpleasant about anyone, including (but not limited to) Slobodan
Milosevic and Atilla the Hun.